Song of the Angels
by Chewy Kimono
Summary: A story about Helga's return to her childhood home after years of a questionable lifestyle. With the sudden and unexpected reunion with her old friends & painful memories, she's got a few decisions to make about her life.
1. Prelude

Ack! I can't get the html version to work without looking all messed up after it's posted, so if someone who knows how to make it work could give me a hand, it would be greatly appreciated! ^_^;;  
  
(A/N: I could only put 2 genres, so I'll just throw in right here that it's Drama/Romance/Action-Adventure)  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own Hey Arnold! But don't point any fingers, because you probably don't either.  
  
Song of the Angels  
Prologue  
  
Time passes in this world. It can be deceptive; seeming to stop at certain points in our life, branding that moment into our souls. It seems to slow during times of great trouble, mocking our pain and making us deal with our problems, when all we want to do is run away. Or it can throw a moment away, causing a moment of sheer bliss to pass us by because a perfect day spent with a perfect person only seems to last a few seconds. But whatever it does, time has certainly passed by the small part of the city that held so many nostalgic memories of friendships and lost loves. PS118, now a run-down and deserted ghost building, harbors the empty echoes of the laughter of children who no longer happily run around its now lifeless schoolyard.  
The children whose lives so busily inhabited the neighborhood those exciting years filled with friendships and memories have come and gone, leaving behind nothing more than the aura of their dead youth.  
Some have returned to the old town to start their new lives in a familiar place. Others, having completed high school, went off to colleges far away from their childhood home. And one of those who left their home far behind to escape the memories that haunted her, so she could start a new life- a new life without past triumphs, defeats, and mistakes; a new life without a past itself- was Helga G. Pataki.  



	2. The Haunting Melody of Nostalgia

Disclaimer: I don't own Hey, Arnold! :P And I think we can all agree on the fact that I never, ever, will. (Gah.)  
  
Song of the Angels  
Part I  
"The Haunting Melody of Nostalgia"  
  
  
The fresh, crisp air of the newly arrived fall season chilled the air. It was evening, and the setting sun was covered by the thick, gloomy clouds casting an empty glow in the old neighborhood. A breeze swirled between a handful of October-colored leaves, causing them to dance in circles along the empty street. They flew past a solitary figure of a man in a thick coat walking along the sidewalk. After pulling his hood over his head, he shoved his hands in his pockets to protect them from the bitter cold lingering in the sharp air. As he walked in silence, the glimpse of an old building stopped him in his tracks. His head turned to look at the old, run-down school formerly known as PS118. The facility had long been shut down and deserted after the tragic death of Howard Wartz. The last of its inhabitants had grown and moved on to begin careers and start families.  
  
The man's thoughtful green eyes peered out from underneath his hood as he saw the empty images of children laughing and running around the lifeless schoolyard. Their happy giggling echoed in his mind and faded as he brought his attention back to the real world. He blinked a few times and saw what really lay before him: a silent, dead building. The wind crept into his hood and nipped at the man's ears, reminding him to move on. So he turned and continued on his way.  
  
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The bells on the door clanged loudly as the door opened, rushing a gust of wind into the empty tavern. A young woman stood at the counter wiping a wet cloth along the countertop. She looked up from behind the bar and saw the young man remove his hood and seat himself on a stool in front of her. The slender, dark haired woman smiled at him.  
  
"Hello, Arnold," she said politely. The man greeted her back with a smile and a nod.  
  
"Hey, Phoebe." He let out a deep breath and unzipped his coat to cope with the sudden warmth in the cozy shop. "Business going slow today?" he asked when he noticed the lack of customers. He pulled the coat from his other arm as he took it off.  
  
Phoebe picked up the washcloth she was wiping with and put it back down in a crumpled heap.  
  
"As usual." She wiped her hands on her apron and turned to lean her elbows back against the countertop. "I don't know what I'm going to do with this place if I don't get some customers soon." She wiped the back of her hand against her forehead before letting out a yawn. The twenty year old Asian woman had weaned herself out of her intellectual dialect, but she was still as polite and reserved as she always had been.  
  
"What time is it?" Phoebe asked. Arnold pushed up the sleeve of his blue sweater to reveal his watch.  
  
"7:30."  
  
Phoebe groaned as she fiddled with the bun in the back of her head. Arnold rested his chin in his hands as he leaned forward.  
  
There was a lingering silence except for the faint humming of the refrigerator in the back room. After a while, Arnold broke the silence.  
  
He sat up straight and said, "Hey, I heard Stinky and Lila are coming back." Phoebe looked at Arnold.  
  
"Oh really?" Her face brightened at the rarely occurring news. Arnold nodded.  
  
"Gee... It's been so long since we've seen either of them," she thought aloud.  
  
"Yeah," Arnold added, "I wonder what they've been up to these days."  
  
"Probably having lots of kids," Phoebe said, laughing. Arnold laughed too.  
  
"Probably."  
  
"Well... how about a vanilla shake?" Phoebe offered. Arnold shifted in his seat and remembered he had to get back home.  
  
"No, thanks. Actually, I just came by to check up on you. I better head home soon anyway; it's getting dark."  
  
"Yeah, I guess I can close up shop. Doesn't seem like there will be any more customers tonight." Phoebe untied her apron and put it under the bar. She straightened her long green dress, pulling it along her thin curvaceous body. Her long, straight hair fell onto her shoulders as she removed the chopsticks from her bun.  
  
Arnold had gotten up and put his coat on. He replaced the hood over his face. His facial features had frown into a firm and mature look, although he still managed to keep his youthful appearance. His hair was shaggy and long enough to hang from his head, yet carefully cared for and still as blonde as ever.  
  
Arnold stood outside by Phoebe and waited as she finished locking the door. She hugged the trench coat around her and together the two walked down the street to head home.  
  
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After dropping Phoebe off, Arnold opened the door of the boarding house. The waft of warm air warmed his body from the cold outside. He quietly shut the door behind him and hung his coat on the coat rack. The lights coming from the kitchen and living room were an inviting change from the dark streetlights he'd walked through outside. As he ruffled his fingers in his hair to free it from its messy state from the hood, he walked down the hallway. Arnold could smell a delicious aroma coming from the kitchen.  
  
"Arnold?" a voice called. "Is that you?" He walked in and saw the young Vietnamese woman around his age stirring a pot of soup. Her short black hair hung around her face as she smiled gently at him.  
  
"Welcome home. Soup's almost ready, so you better tell the boarders to come and get it." She went to the oven to retrieve the rest of the meal. Arnold headed upstairs to call the new generation of boarders to dinner.  
  
Phoebe sat at her desk that night busily scribbling away at her manuscript. The small cozy apartment was completely dark except for the faint light emitted from the cheap rummage sale lamp in front of her. She sighed and put her pen down in front of her. Pushing aside a clumsy pile of undefined papers, Phoebe studied the dimly lit inscription on the corner of the desk she'd owned since she was a child. Helga + Phoebe 4-Ever was childishly carved into the wood. Phoebe could still remember when they did that, back at the end of 4th grade. She ran her long, slender fingers along the pure-hearted vandalism in her furniture. They had made a promise. A vow, that the best friends would never leave each other. They'd always be together, no matter what. Sisters to the end. But time went by, and with it life brought its struggles. And eventually, the promise was forgotten-- and abandoned. Helga was gone, and that's all there was to it. Phoebe's knuckles turned white in her clenched fist as the memories were refreshed in her mind. She couldn't be angry at Helga for breaking the promise. Phoebe might have too, under the circumstances. After all, a silly little promise made at nine years old couldn't possible bear that much weight... could it? But Phoebe couldn't help but be a little bitter about it. She looked back at her work, the manuscript no longer looking as important.  
  
"Next week," Phoebe whispered to the empty room. She could see Helga board the taxi. Young, naïve Helga who still had so much to learn about the world; about herself. Without looking back, Helga left her home, and left her childhood, only to vanish off the face of the earth. "Next week is the day."  
  
  
  
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A/N: Okay, well, I don't know the principal's real name (Did anyone ever find out? 'Cuz I don't know.) so he looks like a Howard. And the school was shut down because we all know what happens to that school once he isn't there. Hmm, what else? I think that's all. Well, what do you think? Please review and tell me, I wanna make this a good one. ^_^ (Well, I want to make all my writing good, but you know... well, whatever.) Next chapter, comin' up!  



	3. The Tune of a Broken Dream

Disclaimer: Until I've got Craig Bartlett tied to a chair in the basement, I think it's safe to say that I don't own Hey, Arnold!  
  
Song of the Angels  
Part II  
"The Tune of a Broken Dream"  
  
  
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The wind of New York City raged atop the 31st floor of that outside hotel porch. The sky was blackened with night, and gust of wind wildly tossed around the hair of the young woman leaning against the ledge and looking up to the sky. Her eyes were deep in thought on her unmoving, emotionless face. Her long blonde hair wrapped around her neck and face with each gust of chilly air, and the bottom of her dress swirled around her knees. Her feet were bare.  
  
After standing in silence staring at the full moon with only the faint sound of honking cars and barreling trucks below her, she blinked and brought herself out of her thoughts. She stood up straight, and as she hugged herself, a determined expression came to her face. She unwrapped her arms around her cold body and held on to the thick wall of the porch ledge in front of her. Slowly but carefully, the woman hoisted herself onto the wall and clumsily lifted her legs so she sat on the wall with her legs facing toward the hotel room. She paused to take short, quickened breaths. After fidgeting-unsure whether to keep moving or not-she hesitantly turned to the side and brought her legs up to her chest. She reached her arms in front of her and leaned her weight forward onto her hands placed on the ledge. Slowly, slowly, she brought herself to her feet. Her knees trembled as they straightened. Seeing the top of the porch above her, she reached her arms up and clutched the end of the ceiling to keep her balance. Her dress blew around her more than ever, and her wind-blown hair covered her face. The woman struggled to remove a hand from the grip above her and move the hair behind her ear to free her view. For the first time, she looked below her at the red and white specks of light in uniform lines along the streets. Tiny dots of people could be seen with the aid of all the bright city lights.  
  
Realizing how high she really was, the woman's eyes widened with fear. Her whole body shook, causing her right foot to slide off the ledge. She let out a faint yelp of panic. Before the rest of her body could fall, she shot her other hand back up to the hold she had and pulled herself back up. Tears instantly formed in thick clumps in her eyes, quickly becoming too big and falling in streams down her face, which was covered with fearful sweat. She bit her bottom lip and soon blood trickled down her mouth. The woman quickly closed her mouth from the pain and licked the lips of her cotton-dry mouth.  
  
A million thoughts flooded her mind and intensified her terror. She stood still except for the intense shaking surging through her body as she tried to regain herself. Her hair had escaped from where she tried to put it behind her ear and once again flapped in her face. Her thoughts trailed back to what she'd been thinking of as she began; the man asleep in the room inside. She hated him; but even more so, she hated herself. No, that bast'rd wasn't why she wanted to die. Placing such a heavy burden on one reason wasn't like her. Life had just decided to deal her all the bad cards, obviously indicating she wasn't fit for the job. The job of existing. It was too hard, too painful.  
  
She shook as she slowly removed her hands from the death grip above her. Once more, she looked at the oblivious city life below her. Going on with their lives like programmed robots with no purpose in life but to get from one place to the next. The woman's face filled once more with the same determined expression she'd had moments earlier. But now, she didn't know which direction to get off the wall. Time seemed to run like molasses and slow everything around her. The cars below slowed to a crawl, blinking lights on the vibrant city line slowed their ticking pattern, and the hair flowing around her slowed as if she were in water. To her, time had stopped. Everything was silent, and the world was waiting for her to decide. She stood with her posture a bit crooked as she kept her balance. All the honking, all the trucks, all the sounds of the busy city around her ceased. Only the sound of a gently music box quietly crept into the air. It was a haunting, nostalgic sound with each slow plunking note creeping its way into her mind. At first, it looked as if the childish song was causing her physical pain, which it almost was with the memories of her childhood coming back to life after such a long time. But then, any expression still on her face had ceased to exist and a bland state of emotionlessness enveloped her. The tune of the strange, nonexistent music box lulled the woman and suddenly she became the same, nine year old lovesick girl she'd been so many years ago. The small girl inside her that she thought she'd finally killed suddenly emerged, and even took over her body. The short, spunky girl realized where she was, and became frightened, although remained oddly calm. She brought herself back down to her knees as not to lose her balance and slowly climbed off the ledge. The small, pigtailed girl in the pink dress clenched her teeth as the cold cement of the porch froze her bare feet. She wiggled her toes and shivered in the cold air while hugging herself from the frightening ordeal. Suddenly, tears formed in the girl's eyes as an after shock of fear. Unlike the young woman she'd grown to be, the young girl inside her had such a strong, undying will to live. And before she could let out another frightened sob, the young woman returned to her normal state and let out the sob for her. She hid her face in her hands as she fell to her knees in a crumbled mess. What had she done? Suddenly, she removed her hands from her face and opened up her hands. A small, unraveled pink ribbon sat neatly in her palms. She clutched the ribbon and wrapped her arms around herself. She slowly rocked herself back and forth to calm down.   
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Phoebe slowly opened her eyes. Shards of broken sunlight peeked through her closed blinds and cast their morning light upon her empty bed whose sheets were still neat and untouched. Phoebe lifted her head and saw she'd still been seated at her desk. The dark room was faintly illuminated with the sunlight knocking on her blocked window as well as the desk lamp which was still on. She reached and flicked the lamp off and could feel the heat of the overused light bulb on her hand. She let out a deep sigh and got up from the wooden chair to head to the kitchen for a cup of coffee.  
  
As Phoebe sat at her kitchen table that morning, she stared blankly at the cream swirling into her black coffee as she stirred the straw around the cup in front of her. Her mind was completely enveloped in that dream. Phoebe knew exactly who that woman was, but she was still trying to believe it. Questions filled her mind about the vision. Had it really happened? Is she still okay? Who was in the bedroom? What happened after that? What happened before it? She sighed again and lifted her head from the wrist she'd been resting it on. Phoebe pushed her chair back and slouched. Her head leaned backward and she stared at the ceiling. She felt a bit overwhelmed by the dream. But as serious at it was, with a bit of willpower Phoebe managed to push the thoughts out of her mind. Phoebe closed her eyes. Helga's gone, her mind thought. She's got nothing to do with me anymore. I've got to get on with my life, just like she did.  
  
And with that, Phoebe got up and went to get ready for work. All the while, her heart struggled in vain to contradict the uncaring she masked about Helga.  
  
  
  
  
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	4. The Silent Resonance of a Ghost Gone Ast...

Disclaimer: I don't own Hey, Arnold! but if we *band together*, we can OVERCOME!!! (...or not.)  
  
Song of the Angels  
Part III  
"The Silent Resonance of a Ghost Gone Astray"  
  
  
"More fall winds today with a chance of light showers in the late evening. The rest of the week should be a little warmer with a warm front coming through for a few days, so you won't need those scarves for long-" I shut the television off, cutting off the automatic-sounding voice of the weather woman. It was a rather tedious start to another routinely monotonous day, so I decide I might as well take a walk. After all, I haven't seen my grandparents in a while; I guess I can go pay them a visit.  
  
I go to the door and throw my jacket on. It won't be long now until I'll really have to bundle up. The snowfalls get pretty bad, and they aren't as fun as they were when I was a kid. Instead of worrying about how big the neighborhood snowman should be or if school will get out or not, I've got to worry about my car breaking down with a frozen engine, scraping the black, road-polluted ice off the sidewalks around the boarding house and gathering enough firewood to heat the aged furnace. After all these years, we still haven't got enough money to buy a gas furnace.  
  
I make sure to securely shut the big front door behind me. Water has caused the wooden door to expand, so I've got to pull it a few times to make sure it's shut. I make my way down the stairs and start down the sidewalk.  
  
I know I should be saving all the money from the boarding house income to fix up the old place, but I haven't got enough years with going on adventures around the world to have that kind of motivation. I haven't told anyone yet, but even though I haven't gone off to college, I still have my acceptance papers. All I need to do is find someone to take over the boarding house, and I'm off to go see the real world. All the other kids I grew up with have already done that, but I guess I just didn't want to decide what I wanted to do right away. You know, just hang out and relax for a while. Of course, my grandfather never really let me have the time off, so I just gradually took responsibility for the boarding house since I had so much time outside of my part-time job at the coffee shop down the street. It wasn't long before Mr. Potts, Mr. and Mrs. Kokashka and Mr. Huynh had all left the boarding house. I'm not sure where Oskar and Susie ended up, but Ernie ran off with some actress, and Mr. Huynh had been killed by a drunk driver a week before he was going to move out of the boarding house to live in Hawaii. It was so devastating. But now, I've got a new family with everyone. Well, almost a family. People these days aren't as open to each other as they used to be, so everyone pretty much keeps to themselves other than meals together.  
  
Marilyn Juntas is a middle aged woman who is rather overweight and a bit on the cranky side. She always wears floral clothing and doesn't correlate often with the other boarders or myself. Dante and Frieda are a married couple who just moved into town a month ago. Dante is African-American and Frieda is Puerto Rican, and they both have a son named Ethan. Ethan is 13 years old, and he's having a tough time getting used to the small city life. (Coming from the busiest part of New York City, anything else seems small to them.) So, since I'd moved out of the attic, I decided to give Ethan my old bedroom so he wouldn't have to bunk with his parents. I guess he tends to look up to me like a "big brother," and I give him advice from time to time. So now, I've got my grandparents' old room. After all, I probably shouldn't be staying in a bedroom in the attic when I've got a boarding house to run. And the last boarder in the house is Curly. Yes, Curly, the insane boy we all knew and loved (for the most part.) But he's always off on some protest campaign to free zoo animals, so he's rarely home. I would have thought that age could sane that guy up a bit, but maybe he just likes to have fun in life, and that's it. Either way, the boarding house isn't as lively as it used to be.  
  
I'd been walking for a while with my thoughts passing the time at a quicker rate than I'd expected, so it wasn't long before I stood before the cemetery located just outside of the urban neighborhoods. The wind died down a bit, so I'm able to release the clutch my hands had around my jacket. I walk in and feel the emptiness lingering in the area, something I've grown accustomed to with every frequent visit. I walk through the tombstones, most of which were covered in weathered age that caused the lettering on some to become hard to decipher. I pass a few that I've read once before, and I remember the one that contains the lost life of a 3 month old baby. Was life always this dark, this unfair? Of course it was. But when I was younger it wasn't. Simply because I did not want it to be that way. But as I got older, I found out things don't work like that.  
  
I see the familiar headstones side by side and approach them. They seem to ask why I haven't visited in a while. I shove my hands in my pocket and study the familiar surroundings. After a few moments I sigh and focus my attention back to what I came for. I begin with my usual monologue, telling my grandparents how there isn't much going on. I tell them how Ethan got an A on his English report, and how Ms. Juntas got in another argument with Frieda. Those two never seem to get along. But maybe it's just because they're women; I never did understand women. I continue updating them on my life, but stop as a sudden rush of wind gusts through the air. I hug my jacket to me once again and move my bangs from my eyes after it's blown around from the wind. Suddenly, I have the feeling there is someone nearby, because the emptiness that usually dwells in the area seems to fade. Call it a hunch, but I felt it.  
  
I turn and see a young woman by the road. She isn't very near to me, and doesn't seem to notice that I'm here. She looks flustered, so I decide I might as well go and see if she needs some help. She continually fixes her coat, runs her fingers through her short blonde hair and looks around nervously. As I approach up the slight hill the graveyard is positioned on, I see she is not alone. A small figure is standing beside her, obviously quite impatient with the woman. It jumps up and down a little and tugs on the end of the woman's coat. The woman turns her head and looks down at the youngster behind her. Then, she turns around and bends to her knees to look face to face with the child. She takes both of the child's small hands, each of which had a small mitten dangling off the end of the bulky coat sleeve. I hear her voice quietly say something to the child, but I cannot hear what she said. I finally approach her, and the child, a small girl with wavy blond hair pulled into pigtails, notices me before the woman does. Her big blue eyes stare back at me with intent interest. The woman, seeing the child's attention diverted away from her, stands to her feet. She looks at the distraction, and sees me looking back at her.  
  
"Hello, ma'am, is there something you need help with?" I ask the stranger. But I don't get a reply. After a long moment of remaining still, the woman slowly places her hand on her chest as her face drains of color. It's as if she were looking at a ghost. But her uncomfort begins to divert to me because I'm not sure why she is in such... shock?  
  
"Ma'am?" I ask again. Her lips faintly mouth a word, but her voice is inaudible. I look back down at the girl, who is now looking back and forth between me and the woman. The woman shakes her head and brings herself out of her astonishment. She attempts to tell me something, but doesn't seem to know what words to say, so nothing comes out.  
  
As I study her face, I can't help but have a feeling of déjà vu. She looks awfully familiar, and it's not long before I put a face to it. The woman had a striking resemblance to Olga Pataki, Helga's older sister. She has almost the same face, and the same short hair framing her face. I decide to try my luck.  
  
"Are you... Olga Pataki?" I ask. I can hear the uncertainty in my voice. A nervous smile comes to her lips. She finally speaks.  
  
"No." Her voice is soft, but it matches the uneasiness on her face. "But you're Football Head, alright." I feel my heart jump in surprise. I take a moment to consider what she said and I can't stop my jaw from dropping.  
  
"Helga???" I ask. My voice is raised in complete surprise. "Is it really you??" She manages a faint, amused chuckle.  
  
"In the flesh." Although the mood in the air quickly loses the uncertainty that lingered earlier, she still seems a bit uncomfortable. A smile comes to my face. Helga G. Pataki. I couldn't believe it.  
  
"Wow. How long has it been?" I ask. I don't think she'd dwelled on the old city much because she doesn't seem to care.  
  
"Pretty long, I guess," she simply replies. I stand there, taking in the situation and the fact that the one person who was dead to all of us has now come back without a word said beforehand. Now that I know the woman is Helga, I'm not sure why she was so unrecognizable before. I think it's because she's just got a different aura about her. And her eyes are different. I used to know them so well years ago when we still talked to each other. But now, they're frighteningly unfamiliar. I realize we're standing there, doing basically nothing, so I come to my senses and invite her to come back with me into town. She seems hesitant, but agrees. I remember the girl standing next to her and see the child is clutching Helga's pant leg as she hides behind her and peeks shyly back at me. I smile at her, but the girl doesn't respond.  
  
I begin walking and look behind me to make sure they're coming. Helga runs her fingers through her hair once more and takes the girl by the hand as they join me in the walk back.  



	5. The Mantra of Wistful Reflection

Disclaimer: I don't own Hey Arnold!, but someday, when I'm a millionaire... I still won't.   
  
Song of the Angels   
Part IV   
The Mantra of Wistful Reflection   
  
  
  
  
  
"Mommy!"   
  
Helga was awoken with her daughter next to her jumping up and down on the bed. Hannah was on her knees and excitedly pulling herself up and down, causing Helga to slightly bounce along with the mattress.   
  
"Mommy! Up, up!"   
  
Helga groaned and shifted her weight to her other side. Hannah stopped and after a moment of waiting for her mother to get up, she began to pout.   
  
"Mama...." she whined. Clumsily she put her hands on the bed and crawled over to Helga. She then sat up and leaned over her body to look at Helga's drowsy facial expression. Seeing no response, the girl took both hands and put them to her mother's cheeks. She pulled her hands together, causing Helga's face to squish together. Hannah giggled childishly when she noticed her mother looked like a fish.   
  
That woke Helga up. She quickly pulled away from the small hands and opened her eyes. "What..." she moaned sluggishly.   
  
Hannah then turned and jumped off the bed. The short, skinny girl had only a tank top and underwear on.   
  
"Mama, I can't find my dress." Helga propped herself up onto an elbow as she looked at her young, half dressed daughter.   
  
"Hannah, we haven't even unpacked yet." She didn't respond, so Helga sighed deeply and slowly got out of bed. She saw Hannah's pajamas scattered on the floor and remembered they'd gotten rid of most of their belongings before they left. "We didn't bring our clothes, remember? I don't know where your dress is." She picked up the pajamas and went to put them on the dresser of the room they'd rented from the local Bed & Breakfast. "Did you put them in the laundry downstairs?" The small girl was still quite young, but at four years old it was impressive how she could take care of so many things herself if she wanted to. Hannah did mature at an alarming rate, but mostly it was because she had no choice. Life had dealt the two some pretty challenging circumstances, and they dealt with it. Despite her own self-reliance, Hannah was still dependent for many things.   
  
"I couldn't reach the doorknob so I came back up." Helga looked around the room to see where their clothes were. They were going to wear what they'd had on the day before since they hadn't gone shopping for clothes yet.   
  
"Here they are." Helga went and got the clothes which had been hidden under the covers kicked off one side of the bed. "Come here." Hannah walked over to her and raised her arms in the air. Helga pulled the dress over her daughter's head, and when her small face emerged, her blond hair played around her face messily. After Helga got ready and pulled Hannah's hair into a small ponytail, she grabbed the key and together they headed outside.   
  
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"Okay, now remember what I told you," Helga emphasized quietly to Hannah.   
  
"I know, Mama. Close all the locks and don't answer the door. Only ask who's there when I hear the secret knock." They reviewed the routine as Helga prepared to leave the young girl alone in the room.   
  
  
On the way home from the store, they had walked past Phoebe's apartment building. Helga stopped once more to gaze up at the area she knew her old friend was staying at. There was the same lingering, thought-provoking silence that was there when she'd stood in the same spot earlier with Arnold. Hannah waited patiently for Helga to come out of her nostalgic trance before they continued home. As their conversation ceased for the rest of the walk, Helga decided it was time to see Phoebe. She nervously thought about it while they walked home hand in hand with their bags down the streets. Helga was completely oblivious to the cold and uninviting aura of the roads and alleys since she was absorbed in her thoughts.   
  
  
Now, as Helga was garbed in her old tan coat and slightly tattered scarf, she spoke quietly to Hannah to prevent anyone from overhearing that the child would be alone. They had dealt with worse crime rates before, so the procedure was quite standard, if not a little drastically played out in such an unpopulated area. It was, however, crucial to the safety of the four year old. It was a good thing Social Services hadn't known about Helga's or Hannah's way of doing things because to many people, leaving such a young child along would certainly bring up controversy. It wasn't like Hannah would be in danger from sticking foreign objects in her mouth or playing in the oven; she'd never had stages like that. And how they lived was just their way of doing things. Life went on, and they dealt with it.   
  
"Okay. Be careful now. We've got some food in the fridge, but save some for me; that's all we've got. I'm not sure if the cable works but you can try."   
  
"Don't worry, don't worry, Mama, it's getting late, just go." They hugged and Helga left. She could hear the clicks on the door behind her as she walked down the hallway.   
  
  
  
  
The old building got bigger and bigger as Helga walked towards it, and so did the knot in her stomach. Several times she would stop, contemplating whether the confrontation was really worth it. Phoebe might just be angry with her, and the unspoken grudge that had built up within them would probably just flare up and ruin Helga's stay in town. The painful memories between them might just be beyond repair. Besides, what would she say? She had to think of something. If not, she'd probably just get kicked out from her friend's doorstep and be rejected, just like Phoebe herself had been rejected so many years ago. But soon it was too late. Helga found herself standing in front of the door with the ominous letters on the door-Phoebe's door-glaring back at her.   
  
  
  
She knocked on the door and her mind scrambled to think of something to say. At least, to think of an excuse for her being here. But she was still trying to figure out why, herself. However, the moment came too soon when the young woman opened the door. A beautiful, slender, dark haired woman. She was sickeningly familiar, yet unrecognizable to Helga's heart. Either way, she was standing there, staring back at her. By the look on her face, she'd had no problem recognizing Helga, unlike Arnold's encounter.   
  
The eye contact drained all words from each woman's throat, casting a deafening, awkward silence. Helga's heart throbbed as she struggled for words. Her breath returned, and she said all she could think of.   
  
"I'm sorry..."   
  
It wasn't known if Phoebe had heard it, or if she was even listening, because she quickly wrapped her arms around Helga's neck and hugged her with a firm and grateful grip. Helga could do nothing but hug her back. In that one moment, the giant canyon that had been created between them for so many years slowly mended together. After all that time...   
  
Helga heard a wet sniffle over her shoulder, so she gently brought them apart. Phoebe looked back at her with a sad but relieved-looking smile.   
  
"Come in," she offered. They walked into the apartment and Helga closed the door behind her.   
  
  
Phoebe went to the kitchen to make green tea and Helga sat quietly on the sofa. She drummed her fingers on her knees, which were draped in a new deep blue skirt that reached her ankles. She had gotten a white blouse to match it when they were shopping.   
  
Helga looked around the living room and studied the unfamiliar surroundings. There weren't many decorations other than framed pictures; there was a vase, an occasional lamp upon an old dusty side table placed randomly aside in the room to fill in empty spaces. Helga studied the photographs hanging on the wall. There was a rather current one with Phoebe standing alone in front of a café with a happy smile on her face. Another one from a few years back with her and Gerald posing for a prom picture hung beside it. A few more contained images of people she didn't recognize.   
  
Helga noticed on a bookshelf high against the wall, next to a row of dusty books, there sat a photo of her and Phoebe. She remembered it from middle school during a field trip to the marina. Phoebe had had many interests, being the "brainiac" she was, but that marina field trip was unbearably dull and unexciting for the both of them. They goofed off the entire time and ended up being sent to the main office so they would stop distracting the other students and start behaving. They'd taken the less-than-satisfactory quality photograph themselves, so they couldn't get the camera more than an arm's length away. However, there was enough room in the picture to see the mounted shark's head atop Helga's head so it was "eating her," and Phoebe's face was filled with laughter. Helga's face had that same mischievous and happy smile on her face that she'd had for so many years. Her spirit shone through her face with that trademark grin. However, not long after that, her spirit of youth died along with that smile.   
  
Helga looked back down at her knees because she hated dwelling about the past, especially during those years she was still an innocent kid. Or at least, she'd still felt like one.   
  
Phoebe entered the living room with a teapot and coffee cups upon a tray. She carefully set it down on the coffee table with stamina she'd picked up from her waitressing days and took a seat next to Helga.   
  
"So..." Phoebe began in an attempt to start a conversation. "...What have you been up to?" Phoebe unnoticeably cringed at how stupid she thought she sounded at the question. She thought hastily.   
  
Helga didn't seem terribly comfortable with the inquisition, but she didn't mind. She just laughed before drinking her tea.   
  
"More than you could ever imagine," was all Helga could say. She tried to tell herself there was nothing wrong with spilling her guts about it. After all, this was Phoebe. But Helga couldn't bring herself to talk about anything. She never was one for venting. "What about you? What are you still doing around these parts? I'd have thought you'd be in some exquisite university studying to be a doctor, like you've always dreamed of." Phoebe smiled at the silliness of the idea.   
  
"No money," she explained after a while. Anyone else might have inquired further about funding or a scholarship, wondering why she never made an effort to leave. But Helga just nodded, knowing full well that life doesn't do what you ask it to. However, it was peculiar that Phoebe didn't seem as if she had put up a fight for it. She wasn't one to quit like that.   
  
"Well, I do have my own little shop now," Phoebe said as she diverted the subject.   
  
"Oh, so that's what that is," Helga said aloud. Phoebe saw her looking at the picture on the wall and smiled.   
  
"Yeah. Not exactly a busy place, but I get by." She studied the steaming liquid in the cup she held in her hands and added, "Mostly truckers."   
  
Then, Helga remembered that Phoebe didn't know about Hannah, so she casually mentioned to her friend about her little girl.   
  
"Oh, really?" Phoebe asked in surprise. Questions filled her mind about the sudden change in information, especially since it probably outlined a lot about Helga's past.   
  
"When did you... well, how old is she?" Phoebe asked anxiously. Helga smiled at her sparked curiosity.   
  
"Had her a little after I left, actually," she answered. "Four years old now... she sure is growing up fast."   
  
"I see." Phoebe kept the rest of her irking questions to herself as not to seem rude about her curiosity.   
  
"You can meet her tomorrow," Helga reassured her.   
  
Phoebe couldn't help but ask, "Where is she now?" She seemed a bit surprised to hear the girl was home alone, but it didn't bother her. After a moment, they continued talking about other things.   
  
  
After a while, Phoebe cautiously asked, "Did you... see Arnold yet?"   
  
"Yeah." Helga didn't bother explaining it.   
  
Phoebe nodded, but was unsure if they had patched up their friendship yet. Probably not, because they didn't really have much of a friendship before Helga left, anyway. Then again, neither did they.   
  
  
An empty teapot and a few hours later, Helga noticed it was pretty late and decided it was best to head home. Phoebe offered her a car ride home, seeing as it wasn't such a great idea to walk home in the dark. Helga hesitantly accepted the favor, and they headed back to Helga's place.   
  
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~   
  
It wasn't a very long drive before Phoebe pulled up to the old place. Her headlights shone on the Bed & Breakfast as she pulled into the parking lot.   
  
  
"Thanks a lot, Phoebs," Helga said, reviving the old nickname as she leaned down to look at Phoebe.   
  
"No problem. It was good to see you again. Call me tomorrow, okay?" Helga nodded and waved the small scrap of paper with Phoebe's number scribbled on it in confirmation, then shut the door. The stones crunched under the wheels as the car pulled away, leaving Helga with nothing more than the light from the moon. She headed inside.   
  
  
Helga tapped a short, rhythmic knock on the door, but there was no answer.   
  
"Oh, Hannah, please don't be asleep," she muttered to herself. She knocked again and after a long pause, finally heard a shuffle inside.   
  
"Who is it?" the child's muffled voice asked.   
  
"Mama Bear," Helga replied. It didn't exactly suit her, but nevertheless Hannah had picked the name out when she was younger. A few clicks on the door rattled before it opened to reveal a groggy looking Hannah.   
  
"Hi, Mama."   
  
They walked back into the room and Hannah closed the door behind her mother, who was by that point more drunk with sleep than she was. Yet Helga still managed to notice the state of the rooms.   
  
"Wow, you cleaned up," she noted aloud. Hannah became more awake with her arrival and bounced over.   
  
"Yup! Your pajamas are on the bed, on the bed," she said with her occasionally repetitive sentences.   
  
"Thanks, Hannah." She went into the bedroom to change and Hannah followed behind.   
  
"Mama, I fixed us food but you were gone a long time," the girl said to Helga, who was pulling her shirt from her back.   
  
"I'm sorry. I'll go heat it up after I change." She pulled her pajama shirt over her head. "You've got your new pajamas on."   
  
"Yup! Yup!" Hannah replied. She twirled around gracefully to display her new bedtime outfit.   
  
"Beautiful..." Helga cooed, instinctively giving her daughter the attention and love she'd never had. Hannah's face beamed.   
  
They went to the kitchen to reheat whatever frozen food sat on the old, reused table.   
  
  
"Oh yeah, Mama, that man called and wanted to ask you if you would go out to lunch with him," Hannah remarked during the meal. Helga stopped eating and looked at her.   
  
"Arnold?" she asked, more to herself than Hannah. The girl didn't respond, but she hadn't known the man's name anyway. She just looked back at Helga as she took another bite of her food.   
  
"How did he get my number?"   
  
Hannah politely finished chewing before she answered.   
  
"There's only three residential quarters." The girl struggled to pronounce the words with her childlike dialect, but was no stranger to big words nonetheless. Helga thought about it for a moment and eventually figured it out.   
  
She continued eating. 


End file.
